Falling Leaves and Letting Go

As I was parking the car upon my return from my evening visit to the health club, I noticed a gentle wind rustling the leaves on a curbside tree.  The change of season is definitely on the horizon I mused to myself noting the cooler crisp air upon exiting my car; it felt refreshingly welcome and pleasant as it teased my warmed skin.  My spirits always feel revived after a workout; for some reason this focused expenditure of energy brings a relaxed calmness and serenity to my soul.

One single solitary leaf was shaken from its place on the outstretched branch and tumbled slowly gracefully toward the ground; the breeze coaxed the fallen leaf directly into my path as a walked down the sidewalk toward my apartment door.  I stooped over to pick up the discarded leaf; its texture wasn’t withered and worn; surprisingly, it still felt supple and giving.  I held it gingerly in my hand and stood motionless for an instant and traced the midrib and net like veins of the leaf with my finger.  A profound sensation of sadness washed over me and I could feel the tears forming and within seconds they began to spill effortlessly down my cheeks.  I hurried up the stairs with the leaf still in my clenched hand hoping none of my neighbors saw me crying over a fallen leaf.  

Once inside I dumped my bag on the chair and sat down at the kitchen table and focused intently on the leaf. “Okay universe,” I said audibly, “what are you trying to tell me?’  For some reason, not entirely evident, this leaf was supposed to present an opportunity for me to recognize something, maybe something I wasn’t able to grasp prior to this moment.  What was it, I continued to question?  Why now?  Answers were not immediately forthcoming, so I busied myself with other evening routines, but I knew something was stirring.  The anxiety was palpable.  Perhaps it just needed to simmer a bit.

I stood at the sink and finished washing the few dishes, glass, cup and my extra-large travel coffee mug from the day.  Before I sat down I opened the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water when I saw the half-empty gallon of Arizona Green Tea still sitting on the shelf left from his visit not too long ago.  It was then suddenly as soon as that connection entered my mind, the “simmer” boiled over as my thoughts carried me straight back to him.

With the changing of the seasons, trees let go of their leaves just as he had “let go” of me.  No amount of unwavering optimism, wishful thinking, or profound yearning was going to change this indisputable fact.  Oh and I had such hope, such wonderful buoyant hope for him, for me, for us.  I sat down at the kitchen table and examined the once supple life affirming leaf.  Clarity reminded me as each tear cascaded down my cheek that the desire of the heart and the cold harshness of reality are not always harmonious, but at some point they will unavoidably collide and then despite your best-intentioned endeavors you, like the leaf, are inescapably shed.